


to gold in the sunlight

by GreyishBlue



Series: WinterHawk Bingo Round 2 [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Asexual Character, Couch Cuddles, Dog Cops, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, everyone lives in the tower, this is literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Clint tries to make a friend! James is a cuddler! I dunno y'all I just needed to write fluff. Please enjoy. No beta, we die like men.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: WinterHawk Bingo Round 2 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911811
Comments: 24
Kudos: 94
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will fill three Winterhawk Bingo 2020 squares!  
> Protective Clint Barton, Messy Hair, and Holding Hands

Clint doesn’t know why it’s _Dog Cops_ of all things that piques Barnes’ interest, but he knows better than to question a good thing. He’d been watching the guy float listlessly around the tower for weeks, taking Steve’s suggestions for everything with a blank look in his grey eyes most of the time. It’s part sad, part familiar, and Clint can’t stop watching; seeing little bits of his own days after Loki in the twitches of Barnes’ shoulders or the way he makes himself smaller around other people.

So when Barnes stops in his shuffle through the common area and actually pushes his lanky hair back from his face to watch Sergeant Pepper perform a daring rescue, Clint turns the volume up a few notches and feels a little triumph in his chest. Barnes stands there like that, one hand halfway through his hair and eyes fixed on the screen, until the episode ends. Then he gives himself a little shake and walks off. Clint thinks he might look a little less droopy, but then again, he’s looked too deeply into things like this before, when he’s feeling hopeful. 

Clint makes an effort to have the show on when he knows Barnes should be coming through. It’s not a challenge, really. The guy mostly follows Steve's schedule, and Steve is still trying to pull the whole soldier thing even though he’s not technically enlisted in any branch now. Both of the super soldiers look at one another with concern, each never quite catching the other one at it. 

Clint gets that, too. He’d been unwilling to let Nat out of his sight after Loki. At least, until she sat him down and explained that nothing was going to take her away from him that she wouldn’t kill to get back from. Not the most conventional pep talk, but it worked for them. He knows it technically isn’t any of this business, but there’s no way Steve is going to have that talk with Barnes, and someone has to help the poor guys out. At the very least, Clint knows that Sam would appreciate some alone time with Steve, to keep their incredibly awkward flirting thing going.

It’s almost a month of having a ghost watch tv over his shoulder and across the room before there’s any real progress. Clint is half asleep, legs tucked up and face mashed into the corner of the couch, when he feels the other end of it dip slightly. He drags open one bleary eye to see Barnes sitting stiffly at the furthest end of the couch he can manage, watching the screen with grim determination. A quick scan of the room tells Clint that Barnes came here alone. He smiles and nudges the remote a little closer to the other man with his foot, and goes back to his nap.

* * *

Barnes isn’t there when Clint wakes up, but there’s an old plaid blanket draped over his legs, threadbare and soft. He’s never seen one like it before, it’s certainly not the expensive cashmere or whatever Tony usually provides. The remote is tucked under one of his hands, which either speaks to his exhaustion or Barnes’ stealth. _Dog Cops_ is looping endlessly through the DVD main menu theme. He's glad Barnes let it run - quiet never makes for good sleep for Clint.

Clint rubs an edge of blanket between his knuckles, thinks it’s really best not to leave it out here in the common area. Nothing would happen to it out here, sure… but it’s not the worst reason to end up standing in front of Barnes’ door.

The door slides open just a few moments after Clint knocks, revealing Barnes looking… well, soft.

His hair is pulled back for once, a dark messy braid draped over his right shoulder showing off the sharp angle of his stubbled jaw. He’s wearing a sweater that’s at least two sizes too big for him and Avengers themed pajama pants that look more comfortable than anything Clint owns.  
It’s not at all what Clint expected, somehow, even if it would make sense that Barnes would want to be comfortable in his own space. 

Clint is quiet long enough for Barnes to shuffle awkwardly, the movement kicking Clint’s brain back online. He holds the blanket out, hopes he’s got enough sleep out of his eyes to make his smile convincing, “Brought your blanket back, Barnes. Thanks for that.”

“Oh,” Barnes smiles back, just a bare tilting of his lips that makes Clint feel warm all the same. “Call me James?”

“Yeah, course. Hey, I’ve got all the _Dog Cops_ seasons on DVD, if you ever wanted to watch them in order.”

James looks a little bit like he’s been kicked in the shin, and Clint adds, “I mean you can borrow em. Or whatever. No pressure.”  
  
“No. It’s uh. Wait.” James closes his eyes for a moment, body tense as he collects himself, “Can I keep watching them with you?”

Clint… isn’t sure what to do with that. He didn’t really expect that his presence had anything to do with James getting more comfortable around the tower, just figured the guy liked dogs or cartoons or something. He’s not going to turn James down, though, that’d be a dick move.  
  
“Sure thing, James.” He’s immediately glad he’s got first name permission, the way it brings a light into James’ eyes is absolutely worth it.  
  
He gets the blanket safely handed over with a promise to show up the next evening with DVDs in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint might have gone a tiny bit overboard. Somewhere along the line, looking for every  _ Dog Cops _ disc turned into bringing snacks. But then, well. He wasn’t very well stocked, so he had to stop by the store.

Now he’s standing in front of James’ door, two pizzas with assorted chips and cookies piled on top carefully balanced in one hand, stack of DVDs in the other. A six pack of beer is precariously hooked over one pinky, and he’s got no way to actually knock on the door. Thankfully JARVIS is the most helpful AI ever invented, and chimes in softly.

_ Would you like me to inform Sergeant Barnes of your arrival, Agent Barton? _

“Please and thank you, J. You’re the best.”

_ The compliments are always appreciated, Agent Barton. As an aside, we do have in-tower parcel delivery robots. _

Clint is pretty convinced that JARVIS has a lot more sentience than people give him credit for, because there’s no way Tony managed to program that much sass into a robotic voice that lacks inflection. He doesn’t have time to sass back, however, because James opens the door a moment later.

He looks just as mussed up as before, hair falling out of his bun and different pajamas that look even more comfortable somehow. Clint shoves down his urge to run fingers over the soft looking materials, or maybe through James’ wild looking hair. Instead, he holds out his offerings, chips precariously sliding off the edge of the pizza box.

James catches the wayward Hot Cheetos easily and gestures for Clint to enter. There’s something that resembles a smirk on his face as he looks over the overly large pile Clint is struggling to place on his coffee table. He takes pity after a moment - Clint could  _ swear _ he’s being laughed at - and helps set everything down. 

Clint’s little nerve-created bounty covers James’ entire coffee table, he really hopes this isn’t overboard. But James doesn’t look uncomfortable, just bemused. 

“Right! So. Season 1, Episode 1. You ready for this?” Clint grins over his shoulder at James while he fiddles with the settings, making sure the subtitles are on so it’s easier to keep track of dialogue when the cool explosions and action scenes get too rowdy. 

“Absolutely. Ooh, veggie pizza,” James already has a bag of chips sitting open at his side, and he’s reaching for a slice with his metal hand.

Clint snorts, amused that the ‘Fist of Hydra’ is now being used as a glorified oven mitt. He takes a minute to set the beers in the fridge and returns with two, holding one out to James. James shoves the last bite of his pizza into his mouth so he can pop the top off with his metal thumb and reaches up to do the same to the other bottle.

“I didn’t know you did party tricks with that thing. It’s cool, thanks!” Clint carefully focuses anywhere but the strip of bare skin where James’ shirt has rucked up, and settles himself a companionable distance away on the couch.

They pass snack bags back and forth between them, James asking questions about the events on screen and Clint happily babbling answers. It’s nice, the way James seems to be paying as much attention to him as the cartoons they’re ostensibly there to watch. 

James seems so much more comfortable here in his rooms, even despite the few times he seems to get a little lost in his own head. Sometimes it seems like he’s missing words he wants to use, having to pause with frustration across his face as he searches for what he wants to say.

Clint gets it. It’s the easiest thing to be patient and let James speak at his own pace. The grateful smiles James sends his way are just a bonus, really.

They get through most of the pizza and a herculean amount of the other snack foods, episodes blurring together in that way they do when there’s a really good binge going on. Clint lets out an exaggerated groan and pats his stomach, splays out dramatically over his end of the couch while James watches him with amusement.

Overall, it’s a nice way to spend his evening. When they decide they’ve had enough of the evil Captain Sniffles McRuff for the night, Clint stretches until there’s a satisfying cascade of pops from all his joints. He catches James watching out of the corner of his eye, and catalogues the look on his face to figure out later. Maybe when he’s not full to bursting with delicious pizza and in desperate need of a food coma. 

James doesn’t let him help clean up the mess, and Clint doesn’t fight him too hard on it. He tries, but James says he can help next time and Clint gets a little lost in the joy of there being another time and forgets what he was arguing for in the first place. Instead he finds himself very courteously escorted to James’ door with a plan to come by in a few nights to finish up Season 1.

* * *

It goes that way through three seasons of  _ Dog Cops _ , simple and comfortable. They end up sitting a little closer together every evening they spend drowning in cartoons and food that’s questionably healthy, but Clint tries not to read too much into it. 

James is clearly still recovering from all the things he’s been through, and getting comfortable with people in his space again is a part of that. Clint is just glad he’s able to help, in his own way. He knows that Sam would probably be better, would know how to get James to open up and talk through the issues… but the selfish part of him is enjoying this, figures he should keep it as long as James is enjoying himself too. 

It’s James that changes the dynamic, all at once and so casually that Clint doesn’t realize until well after it’s happened.

James growls his displeasure as he tugs the tie out of his hair, tosses it to Clint and grumbles, “Can you braid this for me? The plates catch and it’s just… such a bitch.”

“Yeah, ‘course, c’mere.” Clint pats the spot next to him and James scoots over easily, back turned and hair a wild mess across his shoulders. Clint runs his fingers carefully through and winces when he catches on a knot. “You got a brush or somethin’?”

James hands him a brush before he’s even got half the question out, almost like he’s got a plan all ready to go. Clint takes it happily, too pleased with the gentle texture of James’ hair against his fingers to realize. He takes his time, brushing through the ends slowly and working his way up, not letting any tangles tug against James’ scalp. By the time his hair is entirely brushed through, James is leaning back into Clint’s space, warm and languid. 

There’s a little kernel of pride rattling around in Clint’s chest at that, he focuses on it instead of the coil of warmth trying to wrap around his spine at having James so close.

Clint starts high on his crown, opting for a fancier braid that Natasha spent a few hours teaching him once. He’s not sure if he’ll get to do this again, so it’s an easy excuse for a few extra minutes getting to feel the softness of James’ hair.

James makes a noise - low in the back of his throat - when Clint tugs gently to keep the braid even, just on the edge of Clint’s hearing. It makes Clint want to tug a little harder, to hear it again, but he pushes the urge down and keeps his fingers moving. 

Clint gets it.  He knows James is just starting to get used to other people in his space, the last thing he needs is Clint’s clumsy affection or wayward crush. 

The braid, when it’s done, is definitely the best one Clint’s ever managed. Natasha would be impressed, or maybe a bit jealous, honestly. He sets his hands down on James’ shoulders once he’s done, starts to lean forward from habit and stops himself. Definitely time to back up and not press a kiss to James’ hair. 

“There you go,” Clint says, patting awkwardly and scooting back out of James’ space. 

James reaches back to feel the braid, then turns to face Clint, “This feels fancy, what’d you do?”

Clint glances down to his lap where his hands have started fraying the edge of his sweater, “Nat calls it a dutch braid, I think?”

“Hm.” James unfolds himself from his spot and wanders into the bathroom.

Clint busies himself with cleaning up their usual whirlwind of food wrappers, trying hard not to think about the way James’ ears were pink tipped as his fingers felt along the edges of the braid. He fails, but manages to tidy everything on the coffee table and couch. He starts considering cleaning the kitchen too when he hears James' voice, too vague with the distance for Clint to catch what he’s saying. 

He sets down the dishrag and walks over to peek his head into the bathroom, where James is holding a small hand mirror in front of himself. He’s trying to get a good angle to see what Clint’s done in the vanity mirror, but seems to be having trouble. 

There’s a pout forming on James’ lips when he holds the smaller mirror out to Clint, “Can you hold this up for me?”

Clint does, and watches as James admires his handiwork. He looks transfixed, and he’s beautiful. Clint shoves that thought down quickly, replaces it with babbling.

“You like it? Nat can do a lot better than me, if you want something more complex. She tried to teach me milkmaid braids but we got an avengers alert halfway through,” Clint shrugs, “and that’s the time Ghost Rider got some of her hair with one of those fancy fire whips of his so uh. I haven’t learned that one yet.” 

James clasps his fingers gently around Clint’s wrist - stopping the flow of words very efficiently - and smiles up at him, “It’s perfect, Clint, thank you.”   
  
“Oh. I - uh. You’re welcome. Any time.” Clint  _ knows  _ this isn’t flirting, but it’s really hard to keep the thought out of his head when James is so soft and comfortable, looking up at him with those sparking grey eyes.

James takes pity on him - or just gets distracted, Clint can’t really tell - and takes the mirror back to set it aside, “One more episode? I’m getting kind of tired.”   
  
Clint nods and they get back to the couch. James sits almost pressed up against him when they settle down, warm and relaxed. Clint gets it, he must feel safe, and human contact in a safe context is important when someone’s gone through what James has. By the time the end credits are scrolling by, James has slumped almost into Clint’s lap and is snoring softly. Clint doesn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, he carefully tugs the blanket that usually lays across the back of the couch over him and settles down to wait out James’ nap.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint wakes up the next morning stretched out on the couch with a heavy weight pinning him down. It takes the sound of James’ metal hand whirring softly for Clint to realize where he is. He keeps his eyes closed for a few moments longer, letting himself enjoy the feeling of warmed metal gently cupping the back of his neck, the steady sound of James breathing above him. 

“Mmf,” James says into Clint’s chest, then huffs and tilts his head to the side, “What’d I miss on  _ Dog Cops _ ?”   
  
Clint smiles, the curl of worry in his chest unwinding, “The puppy training school caught on fire but Chief put it out quickly, with the help of Lieutenant Whiskers, of course.”

“Aw man. I love Lieutenant Whiskers!” James shifts, just enough to look Clint in the eyes, making no move to actually get up, “Can we rewatch that one next time?”   
  
“Sure. ‘Course your favorite character has to be the one cat on the force.” Clint hopes his voice isn’t giving away any of the strain he’s feeling with a lazy, comfortable looking James splayed out on top of him. It’s enough to drive the sanest man to distraction, and Clint has been told on more than one occasion that he’s a little bit crazy. This doesn’t feel like leaping off a building, really. Except in the way it does, the way it makes his stomach swoop a little, James apparently just as effective as the pull of gravity. 

“Cats are the best, dunno what to tell you.” James smirks at Clint’s indignant huff and finally rolls off, landing easily on his feet. He looks down at Clint thoughtfully for a minute, face shifting into something a little more serious, “Hey, thanks for this. I don’t usually get a lot of good sleep, you know?”   
  
Clint gets it, so he hums in agreement. His own sleep is icy-blue plagued, and there’s not a lot that helps. But James plastered against him had, and he figures it must be the same for him. Overall, it’s the least awkward way he’s ever woken up with someone accidentally, and Clint really appreciates James’ newfound easy going manner about it.    
  


After that, Clint ends up spending the night more often than not. When they run out of  _ Dog Cops _ , James surprises Clint with a box set of Stargate SG-1, and they start working their way through that. Clint brings his Playstation over, and their more and more frequent hang out nights start involving some gaming as well. 

James is shockingly good at most games they try, picking strategies up quickly and adapting to situations easily. They find out that competitive games aren’t the best idea when he gets too excited and cracks a controller with his metal hand while he’s trying to make a particularly tough shot. It takes Clint most of the night to get him to stop brooding about it, but eventually he does. Sure, it’s mostly because he’s distracted patching up Clint’s split eyebrow and lecturing him about doing flips indoors around furniture with edges, but it still works.

Clint spends more of his time pressing down feelings he shouldn't be having, but it's more challenging every day. Especially once James starts being soft outside his rooms, wandering around casually instead of the stutter twitch steps of the traumatized.

* * *

He ends up cornered by Steve in the range, All-American Concern obvious in his eyebrows and the stern set of his jaw. 

"You've been spending a lot of time with Bucky, lately."

"Sure have, Cap. James has great taste in cartoons." Clint lets another arrow fly, glad he's got something in his hands as an excuse not to meet the judgement stare.

"He seems to be doing better." Steve's voice is all serious and deep, at odds with the innocuous statement.

Clint doesn't know what to say, so he just hums a little sound in the affirmative, punctuated by another thwack of arrow hitting target.

Steve tries to wait him out, Clint can feel his eyes digging into the back of his shoulders. But Clint has played this game before - with Natasha, and she's an entire world of skill above either of them - so he just calmly keeps up his practice, thwack thwack thwack. 

"Are you two courting?" 

Clint arrow goes wide, barely nicking the edge of his target. He sighs and sets the bow down, turns to see Steve looking all stern and incredulous. "It's not like that, Cap. We're just friends."

Steve's eyes flick to the arrow embedded in the wall behind his target, and Clint is reminded that he's talking to one of the sharpest tactical minds in a building full of superheroes. "He’s been sleeping through the night, when you're with him."

It's another statement, no obvious question in it, but Clint knows he has to answer all the same.

"The guy has some major trauma induced insomnia. He just needs someone around to fall asleep." He cringes a little, because it sounds thin even as he's saying it.

Steve's face falls a little at that, his eyes shift down, "That didn't work, with me. Or Natasha."

"I… oh." Clint didn't know that others had tried. Hell, he hadn't really been trying to do more than hang out with James, really. 

"Just. Be careful with him, okay? Bucky has been through a lot. If I have to give you a shovel talk, none of us will enjoy it." With that, Steve turns on his heel and leaves, determination obvious in his heavy footfalls.

Clint stands there, a little stunned and with too many thoughts in his head. Eventually, JARVIS pings him about his pizza order arriving, and he packs up his bow before going to retrieve it.

* * *

Clint tries his best not to be awkward, but James picks up on it almost immediately. It's obvious in the questioning tilt of his head when he answers the door, and the extra distance between them when he settles into the couch. It feels like a months-old bad habit, grates against Clint’s nerves to have him out of easy reach. 

James says something so soft, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, that Clint can't make it out. He turns to James, reads the stiffness of his shoulders and the way he's holding himself smaller. It spikes something into his heart, undeniable and weighty. 

"What was that?" He doesn't really want James to repeat himself, just the feeling of the question hanging in the air enough to make his heart go off beat.

"Did I do something wrong?" He’s still speaking soft, but he's turned enough that Clint can make the words out this time.

"What? James, no, of course not."

"Then what is it?"

"I, uh. Steve talked to me."

A flash of something Clint can't quite figure out crosses James' face, frustration or fear or any number of things Clint never wanted to make him feel.

"He isn't my keeper, you know. He can't choose who I want to be with."

"I know that, he's just worried about you. And I guess about me, being a bad influence or something." He pauses and replays James last sentence through his head, "Wait, be with? Or hang out with?"

James doesn't answer for a while, the sound of Jurassic Park in the background just amplifying his quiet by contrast.

Clint isn't sure he gets it, this time. He'd expected that answer to be easy. He wipes his suddenly sweating palms against his stained sweatpants and waits, as patiently as his sniper training has taught him to.

"If I answer this wrong… are you gonna leave?" 

"There isn't a wrong answer, James. I'm not leaving unless you tell me you need me to."

Another beat, shorter this time but feeling years long anyway, "It's. I think it's both, Clint. But I'm not -" he takes a shuddering breath, "- I don’t know how to do any of this any more."

Clint takes in the stubborn set of James' jaw, clenched like he's getting ready for a hit. He thinks back to how easy it was before he had to make it awkward between them and mourns the loss for a moment. Then he gives himself a little shake and puts on his metaphorical big boy pants, "I don't think anyone really knows. I like the way we are. We can just be this, you know?"

James finally looks him in the eyes, that slate grey a bit too shimmery, "What if I wanted more than this?"

Clint can barely keep a smile from slipping onto his face, "I'd like that too."

"What if I don’t want to have sex?" James tosses the words out almost like a challenge.

Clint sputters, a little blindsided by the abruptness of it, "That’s alright. Sex is fun, but it’s not a goalpost for a relationship."

James is quiet, searching Clint's face for some sign of dishonesty for long enough that Clint has to reach out, gently sets his hand over James' metal one. 

"I told you, I like this. I like you. I like spending time with you. I like the way you somehow end up squishing me into the couch whenever we fall asleep together. I think I'd really like it if I could kiss you, or hold your hand, or be able to tell Steve to fuck off and leave my boyfriend to make his own choices. But mostly I want you to be happy, however I get to be a part of that is good for me."

James takes in Clint’s whole speech, his face flushing pink, "You're sure? I'm… a mess, a lot of the time."

Clint snorts at that, "And I'm not? James, I wouldn't say any of that if I wasn't sure about it."

That seems to be enough, James is in motion all of a sudden, settles himself firmly against Clint's chest. Clint wraps his arms tightly around him, finally presses a kiss against his hair like he's been wanting to for months now. 

James mumbles against his chest, then pauses a moment and tilts up so he can be understood, "Can we try kissing? Talking about feelings is exhausting."

Clint's heart does a startling impression of a bird beating wings against his ribs, and he nods, eyes fixed on the soft smile crossing James' lips.

James moves up Clint’s chest gently, presses their lips together slow and careful. Clint kisses him back, and it feels as easy as breathing. It doesn't last long, but when James pulls back, he looks radiant. 

"Was that okay?" Clint can't help but ask, even with the answer written all over James' features. 

"Yeah, more than. Can we finish the dinosaur movie now?"

Clint snorts, reaches down to tuck James' hair behind his ear so he can see more of that goofy smile, "Sure, you gonna fall asleep on me again?"

James tucks himself back into Clint’s chest, captures Clint’s hand to thread their fingers together, "Mmhm, you'll tell me what I miss?"

"Every time, darlin'."


End file.
